


Of Empathy and Questions of Vengeance

by Diary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU Post-Goblet of Fire, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Pass, Canon Character of Color, Canon Gay Character, Cho Chang & Marietta Edgecombe Friendship, Disturbing Themes, Empath, Empath Luna Lovegood, Empathy, F/M, Family, Friends Become Romantic Partners, Getting Together, Late Night Conversations, POV Neville Longbottom, Romance, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7791223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reposted under different title. AU. “You’re taking one of my students, and your grandson is taking half of the school’s greenhouses. Might I interest you in a poltergeist, as well?” Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Empathy and Questions of Vengeance

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

**Fifth Year**

In the Room of Requirement, Neville and Luna are sitting on the floor together and waiting for the others to arrive when he catches sight of Bellatrix Lestrange’s picture on the mirror. He winces, feels Luna flinch, and looks over. “All right, Luna?”

“Yes,” she answers. “Why did you put did up it if it upsets you so much?”

“To remind me,” he answers.

He knows it’s probably not a good explanation.

He’s never been good at holding pictures of most people in his mind. Harry has messy, black hair, green eyes, glasses, and his distinctive scar, but unless Harry’s in front of him, he can’t see the hair, the eyes, the glasses, or the scar in his mind. It’s the same with most people, including Lestrange.

Lestrange hurt his parents. She hurt his gran, him, and all the other people who loved Frank and Alice Longbottom. She’s out there, and she’s hurting more people. It’s only a matter of time before she hurts someone else he loves.

She’s out there, and unless she’s in front of him, he can’t even safely say he knows what she looks like.

“When you do know what she looks like, you feel angry and sad. Helpless.”

He shrugs. “That anger and sadness- someday, it’s going to be what makes me not helpless.”

Luna shivers.

“Wait, Luna- Are you using Legilimency? B-because if you a-are-”

“I’m not. Or at least, not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Er,” he says.

It’d probably help, he supposes, if he actually understood the statement. And since Luna is apparently invading his thoughts, he needs to not resort to mentally calling her ‘loony’ as he’s prone to doing when she does something weird or confusing.

“I don’t mind," she tells him.

“No responding to my thoughts until you explain,” he orders.

“It’s not Legilimency,” she says. “Legilimency is a skill learnt. It’s controllable. I’m empathic. I don’t hear a person’s inner voice, and I usually can’t see images from their mind, either. But when I don’t make an effort to control it, I can tell what they’re feeling and piece together what thoughts are behind those emotions.”

“Oh. What am I feeling right now?”

“You’re scared, hopeful, confused, annoyed, and hurt,” she answers. “You’re thinking of all the ways this could be useful, you’re afraid of what I might do, you don’t understand why I haven’t told others, and you’re wondering why I told you now. You’re always hurt, though; that doesn’t really have anything to do with this,” she adds.

“Alright,” he says.

“I have told other people. And I will do what I can to help Harry win.”

“But not the people here.”

“Professor Snape knows. As well as Lady Helena.”

“Who?”

“You know her as the Grey Lady.”

“So, you can s-sense feelings?”

“Essentially,” she answers. “My parents said the ability was present ever since I was a young baby. When Mum died, it shut down for a bit, but when I started Hogwarts, it slowly came back. I try not to let it come unless I’m around people I trust.”

“Why?” He thinks, if he had such an ability, he’d be using it when it came to the people he didn’t trust.

“I don’t think you’d understand.”

Fair enough, he supposes. It stings a bit, but he knows she’s likely right.

“Don’t you think you should ask the people you do it around if they mind? B-because, I do.” He thinks of his parents.

“I’ve known about them since shortly after the beginning of the year,” she informs him. “I use it to help. If you tell me to stop, I’ll try, but part of what makes D.A. stronger is my ability. I know that’s what you and the others want, for us to become stronger.”

“Does Harry know?”

“No,” she answers.

He doesn’t want Harry to know, he realises. It’s not a good thought, or even a smart one due to him absolutely not being a strategist, never mind a leader. He has a duty to try to get her to tell Harry.

Ever since Ginny was taken into the chamber, Neville’s been trying to figure out who will do what and who will be on what side when the war comes. Ginny was an innocent little girl, and she almost got numerous people killed, never mind the animals who were killed. She’s powerful, and he trusts her; he knows she’s a good person and on the right side.

Except, she’s too devoted to Harry to ever really be useful. If Harry falls, or if he’s in danger and she’s nearby, she’s going to do something stupid instead of whatever’s best to keep their side going strong.

Harry could use this information, but with absolutely no judgement from Neville, Harry isn’t a good planner. Lately, he’s been snappy and bordering on mean. He’s in no position to decide what to best do with Luna- with the information, he mentally corrects.

He glances over.

Luna’s looking at him with her customary wide-eyed, neutral expression.

Hermione is a brilliant planner and can place her personal feelings aside when she needs to. There’s no reason for her not to know. Is there?

“It’s your decision.”

He sighs.

When it comes down to it, Neville always goes back to the night Hermione body-bound him. He doesn’t like the thought, but he knows, when it comes down to it, he’d sacrifice an innocent if it meant getting Lestrange or destroying Voldemort. He’s no different from her.

She’d use this to find out personal information she had no right to, and people would end up hurt or worst. It may not be Luna’s fault, but a person’s entitled to their thoughts and feelings. It only stops being private when they put them out there or act on them.

Then, another thought and feeling crosses him.

“No,” he says. “You’re a person, Luna, not a weapon. You decide who you want to know and who you think shouldn’t.”

Whether Luna’s bothered or not, the way most people treat her isn’t right, and he’s been ignored plenty of times with people only paying attention to him if they thought he might be useful. He doesn’t want to be such a person.

“You never have been.”

“Thanks,” he answers. “Look, just, if I start thinking or feeling something that I wouldn’t want you to know about, could you, I dunno, give me a sign or something?”

“Very well. I’ll try.”

He gets the feeling she find such a request ridiculous, and she says, “No, I don’t. There have only been a small number of people I’ve felt an emotional need to hide myself from. Mum always said I was naturally un-self-conscious, a rare trait in girls. Mostly, I don’t understand why people are so determined to control how others perceive them.”

“I reckon you think the world would be a better place if everyone just showed exactly who they are,” he says. “I think you’re wrong. The world would be destroyed if that happened.”

…

It’s a bit weird having a friend who always knows what’s going on with him, but Neville is starting to realise their whole friendship has been like this without him knowing.

Luna showing up at the Gryffindor table with a desperately desired food or drink for someone has been happening since the first day of the year. Suddenly, her frequent out-of-nowhere laugher when she’s around Ron is no longer terrifying. Her reminding Neville of things is also nothing new; he’d just always assumed she had a good memory rather than the fact some part of him did remember things but didn’t bother to let the rest of him know.

One day, he gets the idea of her possibly being able to read sentient plants.

“Occasionally,” she answers. “They’re not like Beings and beasts, you know. Their feelings and thoughts are radically different.”

“Mind trying?”

She shakes her head, and he makes sure she’s bundled up properly, because, for all she takes care of others, it’s not uncommon for her to run around in snowy weather in no cloak and her skirt and tights rather trousers.

“The cold doesn’t bother me.”

Trying to keep the exasperation tampered down, he replies, “You get sick, same as everyone else." 

They get to the greenhouses, and Neville lets them in. He takes great pride in the fact Professor Sprout trusts him enough to allow him after-hours access. Once, she warned him never to use the privilege to bring a girl or boy in here for illicit fun, but he’d gotten it clarified he could bring someone else if was strictly for Herbology-related reasons.

“You’re about to start thinking about girls.”

“Let’s look at the mandrakes,” he quickly suggests.

The hardest thing, though, is the fact Neville is often thinking about girls in ways he knows would get him slapped if any girl but Luna knew. He doesn’t like the fact she used to be around him when he had those thoughts and he didn’t know about her ability, and he definitely doesn’t want to think and feel those things around her, now.

“They’re scared of you.” She nods toward the mandrakes.

“They’re the ones who can kill me with a scream.”

“They know what you did during your second year.”

He winces.

Part of his problem in Herbology, the one area of his life where he doesn’t have all sorts of problems, is he doesn’t like working with most sentient plants, and he’d hated working with the mandrakes. Hermione, Colin, and so many others needed them, but still, he’d been taking a life.

Pluck a flower, and it likely doesn’t feel any pain, have any thoughts, friends, family, and so on. But mandrakes remind him of cats, for some reason, and unless a person is an animal specialist putting a pained animal to sleep or protecting themselves from a dangerous one, or a hunter, people shouldn’t kill animals. Bugs are a bit different, but even when he was little, Neville’s had an aversion to doing so.

Startling him, Luna says, “You gave them a peaceful death. They never even knew. You gave them a deep sleeping potion, did a numbing spell, and they feel asleep never knowing what awaited them.”

“Alright, I get it,” he says.

…

One day, she pokes his cheek. “Marietta’s going to get hurt.”

He looks up from his homework. “Huh?”

“She’s going to tell Professor Umbridge about Dumbledore’s Army, and Hermione’s going to do something to hurt her.”

“Okay, first, who’s Marietta? Second, isn’t this going into seer territory?”

“Marietta Edgecombe is in my house. She and Cho Chang are good friends.”

“Oh, right,” he says. He remembers Cho often sits and practises with a sixth-year Ravenclaw. He can’t see her, but he remembers she has long, curly, reddish-blonde hair.

“Hermione put a spell on the paper we signed,” Luna continues. “Lately, Professor Umbridge has been wearing Marietta down, and I believe she’s going to tell her soon. Once she does, she’ll be jinxed.”

“You didn’t think to tell anyone about the paper,” he demands.

He feels disappointment in both Luna and Hermione sweep through him.

Of course, Hermione would do something like this, just like she’d body-bind him and get Harry’s broom taken away without even talking to Harry about it first. He knows who Hermione is and knows she’s likely going to end up helping Harry win the war. He tells himself to stop being so judgemental.

“I didn’t realise what she’d done right away. By the time I did, almost everyone had already signed.”

“So, what do we do about this?”

“Why do you feel compelled to?”

He can’t help but stare. “You don’t?”

“No.”   

The answer shocks him, but before she can say anything, he realises, maybe, he doesn’t know as much about her as he thinks. Part of the reason he used to be so wary of her is exactly because of this, but once he found out about her ability, something changed.

“For some people, it doesn’t mean much to say they’d give their lives. They’d give their lives for anyone or for something most people consider trivial.” Continuing, she says, “You’re very brave and very important, Neville, even though you don’t believe either. Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean much that you’d give your life, because you’d do it to rescue almost anyone. You know that. I know of two people I’d give my life for without hesitation. When it comes to other people, I’d try to help, but I don’t know if I’d be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice.”

“Hermione wouldn’t kill Marietta.”

“If you want me to help you, I will.”

“Just- I don’t understand why you don’t think this is something- to- do s-some-t-thing-” He trails off.

“You want Lestrange and her husband to pay,” she says. “It hurts when others ignore you. When they think you aren’t good at things. But you also know it’s what might help you, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he answers.

 His skin suddenly becomes prickly, and he wonders how much of Luna’s oddness is an act.

“None of it. I am who I am, and I realise that person differs from others in many ways. I don’t tell most people about my ability, because most of them don’t want to know, and I respect that.”

“So, not getting involved?”

“My dad,” she answers. “Harry and Hermione, possibly even Ronald Weasley, can’t be reasoned with when it comes to this. A person who defends what they consider a traitor will be labelled traitors themselves. Everyone involved with traitors is tainted in their eyes.”

He put a picture of Bellatrix Lestrange on the mirror.

There’s also a picture of Cedric Diggory on it. Cho lost him last year, and she might lose her best friend. He doesn’t have the right to let a fellow student be hurt. Marietta doesn’t sound like a death eater or a bully. He imagines she’s in the same place he was in during his first year, only, Hermione’s gotten meaner, smarter, and more powerful since then.

But this is the moment, isn’t it? Because, when it comes down to it, he’d rather be able to form an image of Lestrange in his head than Marietta.

…

Life goes on, and he tries his best not to think about it.

Maybe, he hopes, Marietta won’t, or maybe, Hermione will be nice and try to see things from Marietta’s side instead of thinking she’s automatically better.

Life goes on, and Umbridge forcibly dismantles Dumbledore’s Army. He hears rumours about the state of Marietta’s face. _Sneak_.

Part of him wants to ask Hermione if she’d cry and hide in the toilets if someone put _Know-It-All_ , _Hypocrite_ , or _Sadistic Torturer_ on her face.

Hermione helped him when he was near tears for the first time on the Hogwarts Express, and body-bind aside, she’s always been kind to him. He could have done something to stop this situation, he knows. He’s the one who choose not to.

None of this stops him from being irrationally angry, though, because, she’s supposed to be better than him, Harry, Ron, and the others. If Lestrange were just an unpleasant person rather than an insane Dark witch, this is something she’d do.

Dumbledore gave him house points, because, if a person thinks someone is doing something wrong, they should tell.

 _Look at how well you learned that_ , an unsympathetic part of him snaps.

Marietta doesn’t have any house points, and what’s going to happen when some other student doesn’t tell someone something because they’re afraid of never being able to show their face? Will it just mess up their life, or will it mess up the chances of defeating Voldemort?

If something like this had happened before he found himself body-bound, he wouldn’t have ever told on anyone who was hurting him, no matter what.

Luna sits down next to him in the library with a pained look on her face, and he tries to think of anything other than Hermione and this situation.

Finally, he realises he’s feeling all right and looks over to see Luna happily drawing a bizarre-looking creature.

“Did you know about Crouch? About him pretending to be Auror Moody?”

“No,” she answers. “I wasn’t in his class, and I never got close enough to him to read anything from him. In all honesty, I didn’t want to. Former aurors often scare me. Their thoughts are-” she grapples for the right word “-the difference between aurors like him and people like Bellatrix Lestrange is that they somehow manage to restrain themselves from doings such things.”

Before he can dwell too much on this statement, she continues, “If I’d known, I would have told Professor Snape.”

“You really trust him?”

“Yes. He’s terrified of me, you know.”

Neville can imagine. “Want to get some pudding from the kitchens? Assuming Hermione hasn’t made them hate all Gryffindors on sight, they’ll probably even let us have some butterbeer.”

“That’d be nice,” she agrees. “We’ll need to be careful to avoid the Inquisitional Squad.”

…

After things finally seem to go back to as normal as they can with the Weasley twins taking off in a flourish (he thanked Luna profusely for preparing him) and a fake headmistress (if Dumbledore couldn’t be around for a real reason, the position should be McGonagall’s), Neville wakes up one night with an owl pecking at him.

He’d fallen asleep in the common room, and someone had gotten him from the chair he was sitting in onto a couch and put a blanket over him.

Grumbling, he sits up and turns on a nearby lamp.

It’s Luna’s half-blind, one-legged owl. Seamus had found it a few months ago and taken it to Hagrid. Luna started asking to borrow it for short deliveries, and it sometimes sleeps with her in her dorm.

When Hagrid officially gave it to her, she’d offered joint custody to Seamus, but even with her ability temporarily out-of-play due to a mild flu, Neville still maintains she should have known Seamus’s reaction would be somewhere along the lines of running away and screaming. Seamus can be a bit dramatic, especially when he had a worse flu than her and, as Neville had told her, been having nightmares of banshees and owls attacking him.

The owl motions for him to follow, and this is how, after dealing with Malfoy and his lot in addition to said fake headmistress, he eventually ends up sitting with Ginny on a thestral and heading to the Ministry of Magic.

…

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey heals his nose and eardrum.

“Don’t let Luna near me,” he orders.

She gives him a puzzled look. “Whatever happened, surely, now isn’t the time-”

Neville never thought he’d be grateful to Snape for anything, but Snape speaks up, “Listen to him, Poppy.”

Once Luna is lucid, she starts to wander over, and Snape physically turns her. “Not right now, Miss Lovegood. He’s fine, but you won’t be.”

He feels guilty, but he doesn’t want her to have to deal with his dark thoughts and feelings after everything else. Even if her ability isn’t working right now, she still knows him well enough to know.

Lestrange had touched him. Her arm had been around him. She’d done to him what was done to his parents.

This had been his chance. This had been the moment he’d been preparing him for. This night was the reason he’d put her damn picture on the mirror.

He’d always thought, when it came down to something so important, he’d manage not to fail. He could fail at everything else, but in this, he’d find some way to succeed.

Sirius Black, an innocent man, had died, and he wonders if Luna knew the story about Sirius through her interactions with Harry. His friends had been badly hurt. Worst of all, Lestrange is still out there, and now, she has even more reason to go after his parents, Gran, or even Marietta, because Luna had said it herself, those labelled traitors were the ones no one cared about.

Look at Sirius Black; he trusted the wrong person, and he lost his friends, his godson, his freedom, and now, his life.

She’d been right there, and he should have Avada’d her, but instead, he’d cast some curse he doesn’t even remember.

Obviously, it hadn’t been a very effective, damaging one.

…

When he wakes up, he sees Luna is softly talking to Umbridge while Umbridge continues to stare blankly in space.

Over where Harry, Ron, and Hermione are, Colin is excitedly talking to them.

Seeing the camera around Colin’s neck, Neville goes over. “All right, everyone?”

After everyone gives their assent, he says, “Colin, this is a bit weird, but I want a picture of Umbridge. Mind taking one?”

They go over, and Luna carefully moves aside.

“Will she come out,” he whispers.

“I believe so. She’s purposely detached, but soon, she should realise it’s safe to come back.”

“What happened to her?”

Surprising him, she answers, “I’m not telling you. Hermione might be one of the best people to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but she’s willing to do and sacrifice a lot more than either of us.”

Neville isn’t sure anymore. He’s decided to stop judging Hermione and the others. Once he lets a situation get to the point where a sixth year is covered in accusing pimples and he’s angry at himself for not using the killing curse on someone else, he reckons it’s time to stop pretending he’s the decent bloke he tries to present himself as.

Luna opens her mouth, and he says, “Luna, no offence, but there’s some validity to you being called ‘loony’. Mainly, if anyone else had your ability, they’d either kill themselves or everyone else. You know some awful stuff and still insist most people are good. I’m not sure I believe that anymore.”

And dear Merlin, he’s not doing the crosswords in The Quibbler anymore, even if it does explode with eatable snowflakes when he manages to complete one. Since when does he use words like ‘validity’?

“Seamus will be rather disappointed.”

He sighs.

Seamus likes those eatable snowflakes more than anyone does.

“More importantly, Dean will likely murder me,” he says.

Dean was the one Seamus usually bullied into doing the crosswords until Neville found himself taking over. Luna had reasonably pointed out Seamus could do them himself, and in response, Seamus had tugged on her hair and hid Neville’s newest enchanted rose. 

Neville hadn’t even been a part of the conversation, and so, he’s still not sure why his rose was the one to suffer.

“I do still believe.”

“Good,” he sincerely tells her.

…

During the last week of the term, he helps her look for her stuff. “If you know who took them, why don’t you just tell Snape?”

He wouldn’t, but she’s not utterly terrified of Snape, and he knows Snape would love to have an excuse to punish people.

“He wouldn’t,” Luna answers.

They grip the railing when the staircase turns blue as a warning it’s about to turn itself over.

“He doesn’t like most students at all, but he’s happier when he doesn’t feel the need to punish them.”

“Why’s he like tormenting me so much?”

“There was a chance He-Who-Mustn’t-Be-Named-”

“Voldemort,” he corrects. He’s no longer willing to let the dark wizard who sent a sadistic trio to torture his parents into insanity dictate what he is or isn’t called. Voldemort’s birth name is Tom Riddle, but he chose Voldemort and tried to keep anyone from using it without his permission. Well, Neville will happily call him Voldemort, Riddle, or even Tom before he’ll go back to being scared of a name.

“Voldemort,” she agrees, “would have gone after you and your family instead of Harry’s. He and Lily Potter were friends.”

“Well, I’m sure she’d be thrilled with the way he treats her son.” Before she can respond, he asks, “So, why don’t you?”

“I believe the most important things find their back. I think Harry understood.”

…

**Sixth Year**

“Is that one of your friends, dear?”

Looking up from his Mimbulus Mimbletonia, Neville follows his gran’s line of sight.

Over by the wall of notices, Luna is looking at one of the pinned up papers. “Yeah, that’s Luna Lovegood. She can be a bit odd, but she’s awesome.”

He leads Gran over, and Luna turns and smiles. “Hello, Neville.”

“Hey, Luna,” he says. Reaching over to hug her, he tells her, “Luna, this is my gran.”

“Mrs Longbottom,” Luna says.                                                             

They shake hands.

“It’s nice to meet you. You’re extremely important to both Neville and Teller Bornuk.”

“Oh, you know Bornuk,” his gran asks with a look at him.

He gives an apologetic shrug. When he’d told Luna about Gran’s on-going rivalry and sort of friendship with an employee at Gringotts, she’d told him about her own experiences with him. He’d just never thought to tell Gran about it.

“Yes, when Dad and I got back from Sweden, I opened an account of my own at Gringotts. Teller Bornuk was very kind and helpful. He kept thinking of you and Neville.”

Don’t, he desperately thinks, let Gran know what you can do.

He has no idea how she’d react, and he doesn’t want to chance making her more worried or disapproving. It took almost a month into the summer for her to stop punishing him for what happened at the ministry and constantly checking on him when he was out of sight for more than five minutes.

“He didn’t seem to agree with me on Former Minister Fudge’s disdain and desire for the genocide of goblins, however,” Luna continues without missing a beat. “I’ve never had goblin pie, of course, but studies have shown their flesh is rather addictive once cooked. I suppose that’s good, that it’s not when-”

“Yes, well,” Gran interrupts, “it’s been- interesting to meet you, Miss Lovegood. Neville, I think it’s time you board the train. Both of you stay out of trouble this year,” she orders. “Neville Argyle Longbottom, I mean that. If you do anything like you did last year, I’ll lock you in your room until you’re seventeen.”

“Yes, Gran. I love you.”

She kisses his head. “I love you, too.” 

“I’ll help you with your trunk,” Luna says. She withdraws her wand from behind her ear. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs Longbottom.”

…

Once they’re on the train, she says, “She’s proud of you. Terrified but proud.”

“That’s good,” he replies, though, he doesn’t believe it.

He hasn’t told her about his part in Marietta’s pimples (he’s heard scars will be left once they finally vanish) or even asked what she thinks about what Hermione did. He hopes she doesn’t approve, and aside from the part where he wants to tell her and have her tell him it’s okay, he did the best thing possible considering, he hopes she’d be horrified by his part.

Gran may think she’s proud, but it’s only because she doesn’t know how terrified she should be.

He just can’t say, ‘Gran, your grandson has already sacrificed one innocent person, a victim who likely thought she was doing the right thing, and the thing is, no matter how you feel, I’ll probably sacrifice more before this war is over. I know Mum and Dad wouldn’t be proud, but they’re not here. You may be scary, but you’re also a housewife with sore bones. It’s just me, and the most important thing is Lestrange’s death and helping Harry win this war.’

“You can say it to me.”

He feels a surge of affection for her. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because you’d know even if I didn’t.”

She nods, gives him a vague smile, and cocks her head. “Harry’s coming.”

…

A week after the term starts, a knock on the Greenhouse window startles him, and he looks up to see Luna standing outside.

Opening the door, he scolds, “Luna, neither of us should be here, but especially not you. I’m just lucky Professor Sprout hasn’t actually revoked the charms letting me in, yet.”

“Something large is in place,” she declares. She sits down and does a complex handshake with one of the jumping roses.

He closes the door, and then, sighs and glares when he sees the blood against her pale fingers.

Withdrawing Professor Sprout’s medikit, he says, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Shivering slightly, she tells him, “Professor Snape is hiding something."

“Did that hurt?” He stops his movements and wonders if they should go to Madam Pomfrey. She’d be angry, but she wouldn’t punish either of them.

“No,” Luna answers. She flexes her finger, and a drop of blood falls on his hand. “You’re not hurting me.”

Trying to be careful, he resumes tending to her hand, and she says, “He’s never liked the fact I have this ability, but he’s never truly cared what I did and didn’t know. Now, he’s actively working to make sure I don’t discover certain things. Draco Malfoy and Headmaster Dumbledore are a part of it, but I don’t know how. I can’t gain access to the headmaster, and Professor Snape is determined to keep me from getting near Draco.”

“Do you think it’s important to find out?”

“Yes,” she answers. “I rarely pay much attention to the stars. They’re so easy to move, if a person has the skill or power, and that makes what they have to say, at best, potentially biased, and at worse, useless. However, in Sweden, they told of you and me.”

“Um, okay,” he said. “What did they tell you, and what does that have to with Malfoy, Snape, and Professor Dumbledore?”

“I didn’t hear them as if another Being was speaking verbally. I used astrology.”

He shrugs.

With her, he never really knows, but since last year, he’s gotten to a point where he usually doesn’t worry about it, either.

“You and I are important to the outcome of the war. So are those three. I’ve always known when it came to Professors Dumbledore and Snape and us, but I didn’t realise how important Draco truly was. I still don’t.”

“Alright,” he says. “What’s the plan?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Right. Alright, let’s see. You have Charms during my Potions class, and Malfoy has- bugger, what does Malfoy have?”

“Divination,” she answers. “According to Ginny, he’s taking it as a soft option. He usually falls asleep during class. That seems further proof of something deeper going on, doesn’t it? Draco’s pride wouldn’t have allowed him to sleep in class in the past, and normally, he’d take such a class to antagonise the professor and certain students rather than to seek a temporary peace.”

“I wouldn’t know and don’t particularly care,” he replies. “So, he’s in Divination. Harry and I are in Potions. Does Snape have a class during all that?”

“He’s overseeing study period in the Great Hall.”

“Can you think of an excuse to leave Charms and go to Divination?” 

“Yes, but I’m not sure if that’s the best idea. If Draco’s asleep, I can’t trust anything I gather from him. Dreams can be one of the most ambiguous expressers of a human’s feelings and thoughts. Professor Snape is being sure to keep appraised of where Draco is at all times. He should know about my visit fairly quickly, and once he does, he’ll try even harder to keep me away.”

“We need to get both classes let out, then, and we need to get you and him close together, probably away from everyone else, so that you’re absolutely sure what you get from him is from him. Can you think of a plan, or do we need to try to trick Hermione into helping us?”

“You need to be there,” she tells him. “I always know when something’s from you or someone else.”

“That shouldn’t be hard." He knows how little use Slughorn has for him. “But what about the classes?”

…

He keeps looking at the class clock and wishing he had one on his wrist like most muggle-borns and half-bloods do until Seamus inquires, “Got a date, mate?”

In a sense, he thinks. Only, not the romantic type but probably more important.

He reckons he needs to try not to be so suspicious. If Seamus notices, it’s likely some of the others have, too.

This is a stupid plan, he knows, and they’re going to be caught. He hopes Luna will babble about nargles in the field or something one of the merpeople told her and be okay. He knows nothing like this will work for him.

When it’s time, he raises his hand and inquires, “Professor Slughorn, may I go to the loo?”

Relief and slight irritation floods him when Slughorn dismissively waves the bathroom pass over to him and mutters something about hurrying back, but he focuses on the relief.

They’ve enlisted Dennis Creevey to help. He has Divination before Malfoy, and he’s supposed to plant several modified pouches of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in the classroom before leaving.

Neville hadn’t wanted to write to the Weasley twins and ask for the specialised order or to spend the money required, but it was either doing so or going with Luna’s plan involving gargoyles and elf-made peanut butter.

Her part in this plan involves setting a non-burning, rapidly spreading fire in Charms, an idea he’d gotten from remembering Hermione’s talent with fire.

His idea or not, however, he hadn’t been particularly thrilled with this part of the plan –the chances of her getting caught are high-, but her plan had involved moon frogs and somehow replacing Professor Flitwick’s glasses with disguised spectrespecs. He thinks goblin’s blood might have also be involved, but he’s not sure if her plan’s success hinged on the fact Flitwick has goblin in him or if, at one point, either Teller Bornuk or Fudge and his life outside of politics had come into the conversation.

Waiting near the abandoned classroom they’re supposed to meet at and wishing he could be invisible or, at least, disguised, he finds himself wondering why they need Charms dismissed, too. Surely, Luna could have just done what he did and asked to use the toilet.

In fact, wouldn’t that be better, he muses. Assuming Malfoy doesn’t tell Snape about his contact with Luna, Snape’s less likely to find something suspicious about one class being sabotaged than two. It’s not likely he’ll go around and ask all the other professors who all exactly asked to go to be excused for the loo, a water break, or to see Madam Pomfrey. In addition, if Malfoy does tell, they’d get in less trouble for skipping class than for getting two classes dismissed.

“Right, we’ve only been planning this for a little over a month,” he mutters. “And now, I think of all this.”

He hears Flitwick’s squeaky voice and the sound of tons people talking at once. He goes around the corner and tries not to be suspicious as he walks towards the crowd. Relief spreads when he quickly spots Luna. Reaching out, he grabs her and quickly walks.

“Well done, Neville,” she says. Looking down at her nail polish, she informs him, “The pouches should detonate in five minutes.”

“Let’s go, then." Suddenly aware he’s still holding her hand, he lets go. “Everything go alright with the fire?”

“Yes. I need to do something for Professor Flitwick, however. I didn’t realise how badly this would affect him.”

“We can both do something,” he says. They stop and see people climbing out of the Divination tower one-by-one. He doesn’t see Malfoy in the crowd and hopes he hasn’t already left.

“No, he’s coming,” Luna says.

Sure enough, after Ginny helps a girl with cornrows climb out, Malfoy follows, and Neville notices he looks terrible. His naturally pale skin is almost non-existent and vaguely grey in colour, his bones are defined, his hair is a sickly white colour rather its usual white-blond, and he has dark, purple circles under his eyes.

Be brave, he tells himself.

He and Luna walk over.

Luna grabs Malfoy’s hand, quietly casts a silencing charm as Neville pushes him from behind, and quickly gets him into a nearby classroom before anyone realises what’s happening.

Once inside, Luna lets go of Malfoy’s hand and lifts the charm, and Neville closes the door.

He wonders why Malfoy isn’t yelling or snarling and why his stance is so glum and slumping rather than tall and defiant.

“What’s wrong, Draco,” Luna softly asks.

Malfoy jerks, and so does she.

“Oh,” she says, and it terrifies Neville how utterly lost she sounds. Her hand makes a funny movement. “No. No.”

Then, she starts to sway and gasps, “Neville.”

He rushes over, grabs her hand, and pulls her close. “Hey.” His mind grasps for something nice to think about. Without thought, he kisses her head. “It’s alright. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Malfoy mutters, and Neville glares.

Luna stiffens even more.

“I’m here, and you’re fine,” he says. Hugging her tighter, he thinks of the first time he managed to unlock a door with his wand all by himself.

“I need to sit down.”

He leads her to the wall and helps her slide down onto the floor while keeping physical contact. He remembers the getting an O on one of his first herbology assignments.

Once she’s relaxed, he asks, “What’s wrong, Luna?”

“We have to find a way to speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. Draco- he’s not lost in a maze with beetle-blitz dragons playing tricks on him. He’s been given a horrible task. If he doesn’t kill the headmaster, his family will suffer terribly.”

Personally, Neville isn’t sure this is something he wants or needs to concern himself with.

She doesn’t say anything, and the part about Dumbledore dying hits him. “No,” he mutters. Closing his eyes, he tries to keep calm. “You’re right, we have to do something. What about Snape, though?”

“I don’t know,” she answers. “I know what conclusion you’ll jump to, but it could very well be wrong. Professor Snape does know what Draco’s planning, and Draco’s mostly sure of his loyalty.”

“And you’re still sure of his loyalty to our side.”

“When it comes down to it, it’s an interesting question,” she replies. “Is it ‘our’ side, or is it many different sides that are enough alike that they come together? Lily Evans is his motivation. Draco is finally starting to realise how real all of this is, and in his mind, Harry must win, but in the meantime, he has to be a man and protect his family. Your parents are yours. My father and friends are mine.”

Feeling a surge of affection and exasperation, he says, “Wonderful. Now, in answer to my question?”

Before she can answer, however, her words fully catch up to him. “Wait. What do you mean, ‘Harry must win?’”

“Draco has little empathy. Until recently, death and suffering have been rather abstract. He’d call for death of mixed-bloods and muggle-borns and boast of the Dark Lord returning, but in the end, his ordinary life would continue, as would everyone else’s. Cedric Diggory was the first crack; now, his father’s in Azkaban, he’s seen- terrible things, and he’s tasked with doing more than just keeping quiet and getting into little boy fights.”

Leaning her head against the wall, she sadly murmurs, “He doesn’t see himself surviving. As long as those he loves do- that’s all he can bring himself to hope for, and as if a Dartzi flower has plucked his spleen, his confidence is gone. He’s terrified that won’t happen. Perhaps,” she continues, “we should do a thorough examination of the grounds just to be-”

“He’s blond,” Neville quickly points out. He’s in no mood to sneak out for another hunt unlikely to produce anything but sore knees and a face full of bat snot. “Didn’t you say that they only attacked redheads? Well, I reckon all the Weasleys here are fine, and they’d likely be the first targets.”

“I do trust Professor Snape. Perhaps, not with our lives, but with Harry’s. It’s important to get to Professor Dumbledore soon.”

“I can talk to Harry,” he says. “Or maybe McGonagall.”

“You may talk to Headmaster Dumbledore,” Snape’s cold voice declares.

 Neville jumps and, embarrassingly, yelps.

“Hello, Professor Snape,” Luna greets. She stands and helps Neville up. “Is Draco okay?”

“Foolish, impudent children,” is the soft, terrifying reply.

Luna grabs his hand and strokes it, and he focuses on calming down.

“It is more dangerous than either of you realise to get involved in things you truly don’t understand.”

Neville feels a surge of anger, and when Luna doesn’t react, he lets it fully wash over him.

What does Snape know?

Well, according to Luna, a lot, some part of him responds.

But really, he thinks, Snape lost a mate due to his own stupidity and meanness. He doesn’t have parents who don’t recognise him and need help using the toilet. He doesn’t have a scar on his head and a horrible aunt, uncle, and cousin to deal with. He isn’t targeted for death just because he has magic and his parents don’t- although, in a way different from Hermione, Neville reckons this applies to himself, too.

“We’re already involved, Professor,” Luna responds. She looks unblinkingly at Snape. “No one on their side would consider me pure, and Neville will always be targeted because of the choices his parents made.”

“Hey!” He pinches her.

“You could hide, but in the end, it will always come down to their choices, just as with Harry. Three people made their choices, and he’ll always live or die with them.”

“Twenty points from Ravenclaw,” Snape hisses.

“Hey,” Neville protests. “You-”

She squeezes his hand. “May we see Professor Dumbledore now, sir?”

“Ten points from Gryffindor. Follow me, you two.”

Slimy, old git, Neville thinks. He doesn’t particularly like what Luna said, either, but this doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a point.

“Our children will always be defined by our choices,” she announces.

Snape stiffens but doesn’t turn.

“Speak for yourself,” Neville says. “I’m never having any.”

“And the world breathes a sigh of relief,” Snape responds.

Childish or not, Neville sticks his tongue out. He quickly looks down when Snape suddenly turns around.

“I’d like two or three,” Luna declares.

The thought of Luna with kids make him warm and happy. “You’d make a great mum.” He catches her eyes and smiles.

“Further proof of why we should all desperately hope _you_ stick to your conviction to never have any,” Snape replies.

Neville ignores him and focuses on how Luna’s practically glowing.

“Wait inside,” Snape says, and Neville sees they’re at Dumbledore’s office. “Fifteen points from each house for skipping class and accosting another student and a week’s detention. Rest assured that, if I ever find proof that the fire was your doing,” he says while looking at Luna, “you and Mister Longbottom will both be facing expulsion.”

Fuming at the unfairness, he lets go of Luna’s hand and goes into the office. She follows, and the door is slammed shut.

“We did break the rules,” she says.

“I’m not angry about that."

She curtsies to the portrait of a severe looking headmistress.

“He had no right to take those points just because you said that, and he didn’t have any right to say that about us having kids. He’s a damn bully, and I wish I were brave enough to say so in front of the whole class.”

“He’s more scared than I’ve ever felt.”

Neville’s not sure if she means Snape’s more scared than she’s ever known Snape to be, if Snape’s more scared than she’s ever been, or something different, but it doesn’t particularly matter. “Everyone’s scared. Most of us don’t act like arseholes.” Remembering Harry last year, he adds, “Or at least, not for long. We get held accountable.”

She gives him a vague smile. “If I have a daughter, I-”

“Good afternoon,” Professor Dumbledore’s cheerful voice greets them. “Hello, Mister Longbottom. Miss Lovegood.”

“G-good a-a-afternoon, Professor,” he stammers out. “Luna has something very important to tell you!”

He wonders if he could sneak away and drown himself in the Black Lake.

“The giant squid would never allow it.”

For one terrifying moment, he thinks he spoke aloud, but thankfully, before he can make matters worse, he remembers Luna’s ability. Chancing a look at Dumbledore, Neville sees Dumbledore is looking at them with simple amusement and figures this likely indicates he didn’t.

“You didn’t,” Luna confirms.

“Please, sit down,” Dumbledore says. “Would either of you care for a skeletal sweet?”

“Yes, please,” Luna answers.

He hands her a package, and Neville murmurs, “Thanks.”

Tilting her head, Luna says, “You know you’re going to die." She snaps one of the clavicles off the sweet and hands it to Neville.

He nibbles on it and watches Dumbledore and Luna stare at one another.

“You understand more than many would like, Luna,” Dumbledore softly notes. He gives her a sad smile. “Yes, I know of Draco’s task. Professor Snape and I are handling it.”

Sighing, Neville says, “Um, e-excuse me, Professor? I know this is probably the part where you tell us not to worry and stay out of things, but I-I don’t think Snape can be trusted.”

“Professor Snape, Neville.”

“Yes, sir," he says. Luna hands him a finger. “Only, Luna here, she thinks he can be, but she also says it’s because of Mrs Potter.”

“You don’t believe that’s sufficient enough motivation?”

“No, sir. I mean- sir, I’m going to be seventeen soon, and I’ve been thinking a lot since last year about everything. Before, I fought because of my parents and because I trusted the others to know the right things.” Remembering Marietta, he says, “But I know, taking away my parents and what Harry believes, that V-Voldemort’s wrong. What he’s doing is wrong. I might not always do it, but I have a good idea about what’s right and wrong.”

“I am sorry Mrs Potter died, but the way- S- Professor Snape treats her son, I’m not sure she really meant much to him. If a mate of mine died, and I was around their baby all the time, even if they were like Malfoy, I’d still- They’d still be important to me. I might not like them, but I’d love them. Uh, I reckon?”

“Very well put,” Dumbledore says with a gentle, proud smile.

Embarrassed and proud, Neville looks away.

“And what of you, Miss Lovegood?”

Luna’s cool, soft touch on his arm startles him. “Neville does very well for someone who studies people, but,” she says, and he knows she’s addressing him rather than Dumbledore, “you aren’t preternaturally empathetic. I know his feelings, and for all his hatred of Harry, he can’t stand to see him fail or, worse, die. That isn’t what Lily Evans gave her life for. He didn’t understand her,” her eyes glaze slightly, “but he does, now.”

“How exactly can you be sure of that,” he asks.

He’s a sixteen-year-old, pureblood boy, and he reckons he understands Lily Potter’s motivations well enough. Voldemort is evil and must be stopped. Family, especially a baby, is worth dying for. He’s sure there’s a lot more, but when it boils down to it, isn’t this it?

Neville knows he’ll never understand most things. He also knows Snape, rotten bastard or not, is close to a genius. If he can understand Snape’s dead mate better than Snape could when she was alive, what does this say about either of them?

“I have many theories on the why,” Luna says. “But what it comes down to is that you find it easier to love than he does. Sometimes, a person must die for another to heal.”

“This is Snape healed?”

“I understand your concerns,” Neville,” Dumbledore says. “However, you both must leave this up to Professor Snape and me. In the very end, all will be well, dear children.”

Luna twitches.

“Luna,” he worriedly asks.

“I need to speak with Miss Lovegood in private.”

Before he can object, she says, “Go on. It’s fine.”

…

He sneaks out of the Gryffindor tower and goes to the Room of Requirement. Inside, the strange feeling he’s gotten once or twice during the year overwhelms him.

“Draco’s here,” Luna announces

It takes a minute for the words to register. Luna’s sitting slumped against the wall with her shoulders drooping, her hair half-covering her face, and her expression one he’s never seen. Immediately, he sits down and wraps an arm around her. “What’s wrong? How can I make it better?”

She snuggles against him. “Professor Dumbledore’s going to die. He knows he’s going to die. It might not be Draco or Professor Snape.”

“So, there’s someone else who’s going to kill him?”

“I don’t know. His hand is dreadfully painful. I don’t think it’s killing him, but he will die. And he can’t be stopped.”

“Do you want to try to do something?”

“Do you think we should?”

He considers the question carefully. As always, Marietta pops into his head, but pushing the thought of her aside- he finds himself not particularly caring.

“I mean,” he says, “I don’t want Dumbledore to die, but if he’s planning to go on some mission for the Order or is going to do something he thinks is important that he thinks will get him killed. I mean- he has the right. He’s an adult, and he can decide what he feels is worth dying for. People in the Order, they make those choices all the time. He knows about Malfoy, and if he wants him to stay, there’s not much we can do, is there? I’d rather we try to make sure Malfoy doesn’t go after any of us.”

“That’s wise,” she says. She withdraws and turns to face him. “Draco’s here,” she repeats. “That’s what you’re feeling. This room is more mysterious than it seems.”

It hits him.

“Oh, come on.” He groans and buries his head in his hands. “Great, Malfoy knows how to manipulate the room better than I do! Come on.” He stands and pulls her up. “We don’t even know if he can see and hear us. If you can, Malfoy, you aren’t going to get away with anything.”

“I can’t feel him,” she says. “I saw him going in. The room wouldn’t let me see him once we was, however. I thought we could try-”

“If it has to do with bats, you’re on your own,” he quickly declares.

“We could try capturing the enchanted dingleberries Peeves told me about.”

“Alright,” he agrees. He doesn’t bother voicing his opinion this is another one of Peeves’s tricks. She always insists on giving him the benefit of the doubt. “We’ll try that and some other things.” Hesitating, he asks, “Are you okay, Luna?”

“Yes.” She reaches over to touch his hand. “It’s been a tiring day.”

…

Unfortunately, Harry is usually near the room. When they manage to find a time when he’s not, Malfoy isn’t using the room.

…

Katie Bell was cursed by a Dark necklace, and he and Luna are making gifts for her in the Great Hall.

“Professor McGonagall found my commentary both amusing and exasperating,” she informs him. “Although, she vaguely pities you.”

He tries to remember what exactly he did at the match. A fire did break out near him, but he maintains it was Susan Bones’ fault.

“Because of our friendship,” Luna clarifies.

“Still lost, Luna. She feels sorry for me because I finally have a real friend? Isn’t that one of the things she’s always wanted for me?”

She’s certainly said it is enough times.

He feels a quick kiss on his cheek, but it’s too fast for him to even fully take it in. “The others are your friends, too. She thinks you merely indulge me out of kindness when I drag you into my adventures.”

“The others feel sorry for me and also want to defeat Voldemort,” he corrects. “And I drag you around, too."

He remembers how they’d snuck out after Katie was first attacked due to the fact Professor Sprout was too busy working with the other professors on examining the cursed necklace to take care of a new shipment of gargoyle fertiliser. Luna had thought it was a bad idea based on a chart she’d filled out in The Quibbler, but he’d convinced her to come along anyways.

It turned out it _was_ a bad idea. A cranky Venus flytrap who was supposed to be in a different greenhouse had trapped them under a table for three hours.

Still, he refuses to believe this was anything but coincidental bad luck.

“Anyway,” he says, “she shouldn’t. I go with you because that’s what friends do. And as long as it doesn’t involve bats, I usually have fun.”

“That’s nice. Oh, there’s Draco.”

He looks up. “C’mon.”

They stand up and start to walk over-

“Oi, Neville, Luna, are you even done with your gifts? Don’t forget them if you are!”

…

By the time they’d gotten Seamus quieted down, Malfoy was gone.  

They go to the lake, and the giant squid plays with his feet.

“You were right about him showing up,” he says. “Still don’t understand why.”

“I can’t get close enough to him or Professor Snape, but this only strengthens my belief he was accidentally responsible for Katie’s accident.”

“How in the hell does someone accidentally give another person a Dark object?” Realising he has to consider himself, he quickly says, “Fine, how does a smart bully like Malfoy accidentally hurt a half-blood Gryffindor?”

“Harry believes she was meant to deliver it to Dumbledore.”

“He gave a Dark object to someone who didn’t know what it was, and she was almost bloody killed. Even if he didn’t actually mean for it to hurt her- even though I reckon she’d be devastated if it had killed Dumbledore- that’s not an accident.”

“We can do whatever you want.” She reaches over to touch his hand. “You don’t need to feel so guilty and confused.”

He hadn’t even realised he was until now.

Taking a deep breath, he looks down at the slightly rippling water. There’s no image of Katie or Malfoy in his mind. Still none of Marietta, either, for all he’s looked at a picture of her from D.A. He wishes Colin had managed to get one of her pimpled-face even though he knows how unhappy it would’ve made her.

“Listen, Luna- this isn’t- You should keep your secrets for as long as you want, but I have to tell Harry that I know he’s right. If he has some plan, I want to be a part of it. Because- you and I aren’t really doing anything. We know that Malfoy’s hurting people, and if Dumbledore isn’t going to stop him, someone needs to try.”

“This is my fight, too,” she says. “Everyone has their own motivations, which are often closely aligned. You want my father’s magazine to continue. I want you to get justice for your parents. They’re not simply aligned.”

“Luna, most of us want your dad’s magazine to continue. It’s going to be yours someday, and it tells the truth about Harry. Maybe we’re, er, sceptical about most of what it says when it comes to, uh, a lot of things, but it’s still nice to read. You don’t owe me anything because of that.”

“And you don’t owe me anything because I understand better than most how important justice for your parents is,” she counters. “You care because it’ll be mine someday and you believe what it does is important. You know why most people don’t know about my ability. If you think it’s time to let Harry know, we’ll tell him and see if we can help.”

The giant squid stops whatever he’s doing, and Neville finds himself staring out across the bright lake.

“No,” he finally says. “I’m going to talk to him, tell him I believe him, tell him that he can always count on me, and if he does, we’ll try to help him. But everything we talked about last year, it’s still there. Letting them know might be a bad idea.”

“Why are you so sad?”

Surprised, he asks, “You don’t know?" He looks over and is struck by how pretty her hair is the sunlight.

“No.”

“It’s just a bad mood,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

…

This is terrible, he realises.

He’d volunteered to be a waiter at a Slug party for extra-credit and had been excited when Luna told him Harry was taking her a friend.

The problem is, they’re both at the party, and while he’s never thought Luna was ugly, he’s never particularly thought about her looks one way or another aside from thinking she was odd-looking when he was first getting to know her. Her odd looks didn’t necessarily stop her from being pretty, he supposed, but most girls are pretty. It didn’t ever-

Merlin, she’s making him feel all sorts of things in her silvery dress and her pretty hair ornaments. Was her chest always-

He needs to leave, somehow, before she finds him. Of all the things he doesn’t want her to know, this is suddenly at the top of the list.

“Hello, Neville. Harry and I waved to you before I got into a conversation with Sanguini. Are you avoiding one or both of us?”

Damn her and her ability just to appear out of nowhere, he thinks. He tries to think of anything besides how nice she smells.

“That’s rather unkind,” she informs him. “I’ve often thought you’re rather handsome. Not conventionally so, but in-”

“Luna-”

“You’re the only one of us bothered by your thoughts. I’ve been told seventeen-year-old boys often go through phases where only family members are safe from such feelings.”

“Sixteen.” He chances a glance over.

Strangely, this helps.

She’s still rather pretty, and he still has thoughts in the back of his head he wishes would completely disappear, but otherwise, he just sees her. She’s his best friend, and she doesn’t mind the thoughts. He imagines he’ll get over them eventually.

“I imagine so,” she agrees.

He gives a small smile. “Sorry, Luna.”

“It’s alright. Did you sprinkle the raindrops in the butterbeer?”

“Yeah, and I was almost caught,” he crossly informs her. “I still don’t think it’s right to put something, even just rain, in people’s drinks without permission.”

“It would be on your conscience when the vicious water sprites attacked.”

“Luna, we talked to the merpeople, remember? And Hagrid, and Flitwick, not to mention getting Colin to talk to Snape, and there are no water sprites, vindictive or otherwise!”

“Daddy’s sent six spectrespecs, and I’ve borrowed several pairs from others,” she says. “It’s doubtful they’d all be defective, and Seamus also saw the blue around the giant squid.”

“Luna, I saw the blue, too. That- the spectrespecs tend to make most things blue.”

“He was green before the water sprites appeared.”

A crash almost makes him drop his tray.

He sees Filch holding Malfoy by the collar and feels himself being led by the hand over to where Filch, Malfoy, and Slughorn are talking. Unfortunately, Snape appears, too, and glares at them.

Then, quicker than Neville can process, Snape leaves with Malfoy.

“Do you want me to go?”

“Please,” he answers. “Only, be careful.”

…

During Christmas holiday, he’s jerked awake by the sound of a click. There’s lights on underneath his bedroom door, and his hand goes for his wand.

Then, he remembers Gran locked it up. 

Sitting up as quietly as possible, he listens carefully.

“I’m not overreacting,” his gran’s voice says.

He lets himself relax.

There’s pacing outside his door, and he hears Bornuk say almost too quietly to hear, “In this instance, I didn’t accuse you of being so.”

“That girl of his is going to know. I don’t know what it is about her, but she always seems to know things that- She’ll tell him, of course. And then-” She trails off.

“If you’d like, I could talk to him.”

“Bornuk,” she says, and it strikes him how tired she sounds, “this isn’t me insulting you. I do recognise the kindness of that, but: What makes you think he’ll listen to you? That bitch burned down the Burrow.”

Oh, God, no, is his first thought.

Hermione didn’t go to the Weasley’s, but Harry did. Ginny, Ron, the others- Percy doesn’t live at home, and the twins might have been at their flat. Did either Charlie or Bill come home? What about Auror Tonks and Professor Lupin, he frantically wonders.

“The fact everyone managed to get to safety might help calm him.”

Bornuk’s right. This does calm him, but the fear turned to relief is quickly replaced by anger.

“Despite your homicidal attitude towards me and claims I intentionally locked you in a vault, we’re friends, and he knows that. He might take it to heart when I tell him how much losing him would hurt you.”

He closes his eyes and leans against the wall.

Of course, he knows Gran would be heartbroken, but she’s strong. He also knows she wants him to fight like his dad and mum did. It’s not fair of her to suddenly change her mind when reality starts to hit.

In a way, it reminds him of Malfoy.

He might die, and he doesn’t fancy the thought, but if he can get Lestrange in the process, he’ll die happy.

“You did lock me in there on purpose,” Gran retorts. “I’m going to go help Arthur and Molly. Are you sure this won’t be a problem? Neville can take care of himself, and from what I’ve seen and heard of Luna, she’s more self-sufficient than most teenagers are. Whether that’s good or not is debatable, but I know many people have taken issue with my parenting of both Frank and Neville.”

“Yes,” Bornuk answers. “I’ll try to save you some breakfast.”

“Meaning I’ll be lucky if I get any food within the next few days.”

“I assure you that your grandson and his guest will be properly fed and watered.”

“Try to get her to brush her hair. I can’t stand seeing it so straggly. And if I’m not back by twelve, have Neville start his History of Magic report.”

“Everything is fine here, Augusta,” Bornuk softly tells her.

Hearing this gives Neville a weird feeling.

Bornuk is the only friend of his gran’s who doesn’t call her by her first name. Once, when he was younger, he asked about this, but Gran had yelled at him, and Bornuk had distracted him with some toy.

The latter wasn’t something Bornuk did often. Bornuk usually treats him older than he is.

“Thank you.”

There’s a sound of clapping –this how she apparates, he knows, except, she rarely apparates-,  and then, before he can react, his door’s opened, and he finds himself staring guilty at Bornuk.

Sighing, Bornuk says, “I didn’t realise the silencing charm wasn’t performed correctly. She’s under a lot of stress.”

“But everyone really is okay? All the Weasleys and Harry?”

Nodding, Bornuk walks over. “May I sit?”

“Yeah.”

Bornuk lowers his desk chair, gets on it, raises it, and moves over to the bed. “It’s not exaggeration to say I truly doubt her ability to live if anything were to happen to you. She would give her life for you.”

“I know.” Hesitating for a moment, he says, “I can understand- but sometimes, it makes me angry. Harry’s parents died for him, and Voldemort’s still around and getting just as strong as before. My parents-”

He can’t continue.

His parents are heroes, and he’s dead proud to be their son. He just sometimes wonders if they’d regret it. If they knew that all would come out of it was Voldemort returning and his dad’s mum having to take care of a son who can barely do magic and had let a girl be hurt by a friend of his. If they knew Malfoy had hurt another girl and was planning to kill a man, Dumbledore was probably going to die soon, and the only person their son felt safe talking to about it all is a pretty, odd girl who he reckons will come out of everything better than he will.

“Feelings are neutral until acted on, lad,” Bornuk says. “Having negative ones isn’t a defect of character. It also doesn’t mean you don’t love them with your full heart.”

Remembering what Luna said about dying for others, he asks, “Sir, would you die for Gran?”

Bornuk raises an eyebrow. “I might die due to her.”

“I mean- Luna once said it didn’t mean much that I was willing to die, because I’d be willing to die for almost anyone. She said there were only two people she knows for sure she’d give her life for. Her dad, and I don’t know the other. But- I just want to know that my parents are mad for a reason. And you’re always honest, even when you don’t want to be, so- if they didn’t, I want to know.”

“It’s a question you have to answer for yourself,” Bornuk quietly replies. “Different people will have different conclusions. There’s no way to prove one is more valid than the others.”

“What do you think?”

Bornuk hesitates for a long moment.

“I know that Gran still thinks I’m weak, and maybe I am, but I’m also almost seventeen. That’s a man. And you’re not just my gran’s friend who makes me laugh and annoys me when you argue with her anymore.”

“I suppose not,” Bornuk agrees with an expression Neville’s not sure how to decipher. “Yes, I’d die for your grandmother. As for your parents, they knew nothing about the Dark Lord’s continuing survival, but they could have given other information that the Lestrange’s and the younger Crouch wanted. They didn’t. History will never give a definite, agreed on answer. People learning about them will come up with different motivations.”

“I know,” he says.

He remembers being a little kid and sitting on Gran’s lap while she showed him pictures and told him about different members of the Order. During his first year, he learned about all these other people. Some of them were still around when he was younger. As the years have gone by, he’s been worried about his parent’s names appearing in his class.

It may or may not ever happen, but someday, it’ll happen like it did with Harry and Ron. Someone will hear the story. They’ll wonder and form opinions.

“I knew them,” Bornuk says, and Neville’s struck by the sadness in his voice. “Your dad was only a bit older than you are now when I met him. Without a doubt, he was his mother’s son. And your mother- sometimes, I see so much of her in you, little one. She was your age, and she was so happy. Even with a war going on, she was so happy and strong. When her family was- Your father’s love gave her strength.”

“They knew what kind of world they wanted to live in. And that’s what they forfeited their sanity for. They did so that, hopefully, their son, their mother, and other children such as Harry Potter and Miss Lovegood would be able to live in that world. That world hasn’t yet materialised, but I do believe it’s getting closer.”

“That world will never come until Lestrange and her husband are dead,” he fiercely declares.

Bornuk doesn’t answer for another long moment. “From what I’ve heard, Rodolphus Lestrange is little better than your parents.”

“I know everyone thinks vengeance is bad, and I reckon it is, but even if I could forgive them, it’s still true. Do you think she can be broken? Like Mum and Dad were? Azkaban didn’t do it. She’s even more dangerous than ever. All it did was make her stronger.”

“If she could be, would you want that, lad?”

He thinks about it. He thinks about how his mum acts like a skittish tot except when he gives her sweets. He thinks of his dad constantly building forts and attempting to nick pens. He thinks about the pictures he’s seen of his mum when she was strong and happy, and his dad when he was mischievous and playful. More than any of this, though, he can almost mentally see the clear eyes they have in pictures.

“No,” he answers.

“I’m a goblin. And you and I have never been particularly close. However, if I may give you some advice: When you turn seventeen, you’re still going to be your grandmother’s child. As you become a man in more than name, that’ll change, but I suggest you let it come naturally.”

He wonders if this is Bornuk’s way of telling him not to go after the Lestrange’s as soon as he turns seventeen.

This isn’t a concern. Gran would never speak to him again if he didn’t finish Hogwarts, and he still doesn’t really have a plan on how to get near her, let alone kill her. The killing curse might be too strong for him to cast- Harry’s powerful, and he couldn’t even cast a successful Crucio- and she’s smarter and stronger than he is. Despite her insanity, he doubts her feelings get in the way of her doing things like his do.

“What does it mean to be a man?”

“Different things to different men,” Bornuk answers. “You’ll know the answer when you feel it.”

“Er, when it came to you- when did you-” He trails off.

“Eight months after I became a full-time teller, one of my clients was in desperate need of gold,” Bornuk answers. “As an apprentice, I could never do anything to truly help those who needed assistance. I anonymously gave that customer the gold they needed. All my life, I’ve wanted to help people, and for once I finally did, all on my own.”

“Right,” he says. “Thanks for talking to me. Could we k-keep this between us?”

Bornuk nods and pats his hand. “There’s no need for your grandmother to know. Get some sleep, lad. I’m going to go check on Miss Lovegood. I’ll be in the parlour if you need me.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. “Do you need me to get you some blankets or pillows?”

“Augusta already has, thank you."

He slides back onto the chair.

Neville lies down, covers up, and snuggles into his pillow.

Bornuk leaves and shuts the door gently behind him. The room is left dark aside from the soft light of Neville’s glowing, floating nightlight projecting stars on the ceiling and walls. He hadn’t wanted Luna to know about it, but he’s more-or-less accepted having an empath for a best mate means she’s going to know all the things he doesn’t want her or anyone else to know.

Thankfully, she’d brought her own small tree-figure nightlight to cast a soft glow of green and brown. 

…

Luna wakes him up by gently tugging on different strands of his hair until he tries to kick her.

This doesn’t work due to the fact she’s able to move out of reach while still keeping her hands in his hair.

“’m ‘p,” he grumpily mumbles. “s Gran ‘ack?”

“She’s asleep. She brushed my hair for me.”

He blinks and sees Luna’s hair has been more than just been brushed. It’s in a neat plait, and it takes him a moment to get over the sight.

It doesn’t look bad, but it does make her look radically different. Part of it is the fact she’s wearing a long, black t-shirt and blue leggings with no jewellery or paint smudged on her. She looks more- normal. Or no, he reckons this isn’t the right word.

She looks more like most girls her age do.

“Is there any breakfast left?"

“Yes.” She gives his hair one last tug before letting go. “Teller Bornuk wants to take us to St. Marie’s Sweets and Stews Shoppe.”

“Does Gran know?” He gets out of bed and shivers before he remembers to put on his slippers.

“I’m not sure. A pack of salamanders distracted me while they were talking. I wonder if there will an eclipse tonight. Perhaps, a meteor shower will rain blue dollops from the sky.”

“Dollops,” he inquires before saying, “Good morning,” to Teller Bornuk.

“Here you go, lad,” Bornuk says from the chair he’s standing on. He pours some orange juice and slides a pancake on a plate.

“Most people think of sweets when they hear about dollops,” Luna says, “but that’s not all they are. Dollops are also…”

…

After Christmas, while Luna’s having tea with Flitwick, Neville finds Marietta sitting by herself on a bench under a tree and painting her nails.

He hesitates, and without looking up, she says, “Cho’ll be back soon. I don’t like it when she hexes people, but I imagine she’ll go easy on you.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Could I sit down?”

“Alright."

He does and steels himself. “Look, Marietta- Last year, I knew you were close to telling Umbridge- I heard things.” He suddenly wishes he’d done a better job of coming up with what he could truthfully say without bringing Luna into the mix. “And everyone knew how disapproving you were. Just, look, I just knew, deep down, that you were going to talk to her, and I should have done something. Talked to you or Cho or someone, but I didn’t. I d-didn’t, not because I didn’t care or didn’t think it was any of my business, but I didn’t because- I c-can’t tell you why. I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t your business,” she tells him. “Everyone knew how I felt, like you said.”

“I knew about Hermione’s jinx,” he miserably confesses. “Not at first. I wouldn’t have let people sign without them knowing. But I found out, later, and even though I knew you were about to-”

Finally, she looks up, and the scarf around her forehead stands out. “You live with your grandmother. Are your parents dead? Did your grandfather die from You-Know-Who?”

“My granddad died of natural causes,” he answers. “He was old, and not only did he have heart problems, but he got dragon pox late in life, and he never fully recovered from that. My parents- In fourth year, my fourth year, when we had that imposter Moody- Crouch and a married couple, the Lestranges, they got a hold of my parents after the war. They w-wanted information on V-v- You-Know-Who and the Potters.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and he can’t make out her tone. “My dad is muggle-born, and my mum is mixed-blood. Her dad came from a pureblood family that values blood purity highly. He married a half-blood. I was afraid my mum would lose her job. I was afraid my dad would be hurt. My mother did lose her job.”

He wonders if he’s ever going to be able to breathe properly again.

“So, if you want forgiveness or validation, or whatever, you won’t get it from me. You and Potter and Granger,” she spits, “all think you’re these great, damn heroes, but anytime someone tries to ask questions that you don’t like or want to have to deal with, you hurt them. Didn’t she put you in a body-bind during your first year? I heard Potter used a crucio last year. Against Bellatrix Lestrange? Hell, I can’t blame you for not stepping in there, but what did I ever do to you? Or if I did, what did my mother and father and nine-year-old brother ever do you, Neville Longbottom?”

“He’s never going to live down being my brother. My mum’s never going to get another decent job again. My dad- he has one foot out the door. Because I was scared, because Potter kept making my best friend cry, and because, well, Granger can do whatever she wants. It’s okay for her to body-bind you, get Potter’s broom taken away, and if she did something stupid to protect her muggle parents, I doubt she’d have to deal with never being able to look in the mirror. Because you were too scared or apathetic or just plain cruel to even try to talk to me or Cho or even Granger.”

While he’s trying to think of a response, Cho Chang appears. “Neville Longbottom,” she hisses. Her wand is suddenly pointing at him. “What do-”

“Cho, he didn’t hurt me, and he’s not worth it,” Marietta says. She gets up and reaches over to wrap a hand around Cho’s wrist. “Did you get permission for us to go to London this Sunday?”

Shooting him one last, suspicious look, Cho nods and laces her fingers through Marietta’s. “Yeah." They start to walk away. “Don’t worry. Madam Triton’s shop has an awesome…”

…

“Do you feel better?”

He looks up from his plate and raises an eyebrow.

“Well?”

“No,” he sighs. “But I don’t reckon I have much of a right to. I- needed to tell Marietta. And I did.”

“I was the one who-”

“Luna, you didn’t convince me,” he interrupts. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate it, but we know this really is about me. You said you’d do whatever I wanted, and I believed you. You gave a good argument, or what I thought was a good argument, but when it comes down to it, I convinced myself. I doubt I can make it right, but I told her. Hopefully, she knows this isn’t all her fault. It’s not yours, either.”

“Neville-”

“Whatever I may think and feel sometimes, I could never truly blame you for putting your dad above everything and everyone else. But I’m not sure that putting mine above everything is really right, and I- don’t think Marietta was me doing that. Not really. It was something else, and it was my fault. Just- let’s talk about something else, alright? Do you want to split a pie, or make pudding sandwiches?”

“Pie,” she answers.

As he reaches over for it, she continues, “You’re wrong, you know. I’m not just trying to make you feel better. I didn’t intentionally influence you, but that doesn’t rule out the possibility I did. I also knew just as well as you that you’d likely regret not doing anything, but I still let you make your decision.”

He cuts the pie. “It isn’t your responsibility.”

“Perhaps not. However, I wish I could do something about your sadness.”

Putting a slice on her plate, he says, “Here. Look, Luna, just give me some time, alright? I did what I needed to do. If Marietta ever wants to talk to me again, I’ll see if I can do more. Right now, let’s just eat. How’s Flitwick holding up?”

“He’s tired and barely keeping a hold of his distress. I gave him a bubble to attract fairies. They bring him more comfort than anything else of late.”

“When the war’s over, will he be okay?”

“I hope so,” she answers. “He’s still very dedicated to Hogwarts, its staff, and the students. I believe that’ll help him heal.”

 …

Poking his cheek, Luna announces, “Something bad is about to happen.”

Grumbling, Neville sits up and doesn’t even bothering to ask how she managed to sneak into the Gryffindor Tower. “Mm?”

“Professor Snape is terrified,” she says. “Also, he locked me in a trunk.”

“What,” he sputters. Then, he remembers he’s in the dorm and quickly claps his hand over his mouth.

“I cast a charm around us,” she assures him. “Myrtle got Peeves to let me out.”

“That’s- good.” He reaches over and gets his glass of pumpkin juice off the nightstand. “You’re alright, then?”

“Yes. He didn’t hurt me.”

“When you say terrified, what do you mean? Do you know what he’s planning?”

“It involves Professor Dumbledore and Draco. He doesn’t know exactly what’s happening, either. Neville,” she says, and her voice is chillingly serious, “I was in bed, asleep. He used his access as professor to enter the dorms. I’m not sure why, but- someone, whether the headmaster or someone involved with Draco ordered him to do something involving me. I don’t know for sure what. He didn’t want to, and he put me in his trunk as a way of trying to get around the orders without completely defying them.”

“What do we do? We have to do something.”

She cocks her head. “Where’s Harry?”

“Er. He’s not here?”

He tries to think and can’t remember Harry going to bed with the rest of them. “I dunno. I don’t even know if he’s been in the tower since after supper. Was he even at supper? I know Ron and Hermione were- they argued about Fred and George’s plans for opening another shop. And Ron and Seamus got into an argument about Ron playing that newest banshee song over and over before one of the prefects ordered us all to bed.”

She sighs, and he notices she’s barefoot and shivering in her nightdress. He gets out of bed, retrieves his robe from his trunk, and helps her put it on.

“We need to check Harry’s trunk,” she says.

…

After establishing Harry’s invisibility cloak isn’t in the trunk, he whispers, “Should we get Ron and Hermione up?”

“It’ll put them at risk.”

“Look, Luna, just- do you have a plan that I won’t think is crazy and unrealistic?” He pushes down the guilt. Harry’s missing, Snape locked his best mate in a trunk, and he’s not sure McGonagall won’t just take house points and assign detention instead of listening to him if he tries to get her up. For all her friendship with Gran, he’s heard them arguing enough about him to know she usually disapproves of how Gran’s raising him.

“She believes your grandmother is too domineering.”

“Well, as much as I appreciate it, I don’t think she’s one to talk.”

“Yes,” Luna answers. “However, it is risky. Extremely so.”

“Risky for both of us?”

“I’d go into a risky situation alone before I’d let you do so." Pulling aside Ron’s curtains, she asks, “Should we bring him and Hermione along?”

He realises this really isn’t the time to express his unhappiness with her statement.

Ron mumbles and turns away from the moonlight.

“No, let’s try to keep as many people out of danger as we can,” he answers. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Get your wand." As he does and stubs his toe in the process, she adds, “Professor Snape might have manipulated the wards around my dorm, and we don’t have enough time to hunt down fairies and bribe them into retrieving mine. Of course, one potential option is-”

“Let’s just stick with mine,” he interrupts. He stubs his toe again when he tries to open his trunk. “Turn around. I’m not going out in my pyjamas.”

“I’ll hold your wand,” she says.

…

Looking down at Luna, Gran demands, “Where are your shoes?"

Finding them, Neville starts to put them on Luna.

“Augusta, you are not taking Miss Lovegood. As Headmistress, I cannot-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Neville says, “but I’m not leaving without Luna.”

He tries to keep his feelings under control.

Xenophilius Lovegood isn’t answering Luna’s owls- she’s not even sure where her dad is, or worse, if he’s even alive or not. He knows there’s a possibility, especially with how brazen The Quibbler’s been at times, but he tries hard not to let himself think about such things while around her.

Dumbledore’s dead by Snape’s hand. Someone tried to attack Bornuk, and he’s gone in hiding; Gran can’t hide how unhappy and worried she is over this. Millicent Bulstrode has ‘hag’ carved into her skin courtesy of Lestrange. As sorry as he is for her, he can’t help but feel- he wanted to be the one who came across Lestrange. Sure, death eaters want to wipe out her family, but they haven’t actually done anything to the Bulstrode family before now.

“Why are Miss Lovegood’s shoes in your trunk?” McGonagall demands, and he welcomes the forcible redirection of his thoughts and feelings.

“It’s only a pair,” he answers. “I keep some of Luna’s stuff here so that it doesn’t get stolen.”

“All my stuff’s been given back,” Luna adds. She finishes the last of their eatable snowflakes. “Headmistress, I want to go with Neville.”

“Listen, everyone,” McGonagall says. She takes a deep breath. “I realise this is a trying time. I’m not unsympathetic. I’m sorry, Luna, about your father. Neville, Augusta, I know you have her best intentions at heart. Of course, she wants to go with Neville, and of course, you want to help her. But I am Headmistress of Hogwarts, and I cannot allow you to take a student you have-”

“Oh, poppycock,” Gran mutters. “Minerva, what in the hell are you going to do if her father doesn’t show up? Turn her over to the ministry? Well, that would be fine if it weren’t a time of war. I’d still be unhappy, but I’d respect your point and let you do your job. You know as well as I do that the damn ministry is always one of the first to be infiltrated in times of war. The only relatives she knows of are in Ireland. Even if they do come to claim this teenage girl they haven’t seen since she was little more than a toddler, she couldn’t recognise them if her life depended on it; for all you know, you’d be handing her over to imposters or just plain bad people. No offence, dear,” she adds with a brief glance at Luna.

“I don’t know what you’re going to do about other students like her, but in her case, you have someone you can trust her life and well-being with. This is a time of war, Minerva, and my grandson isn’t leaving here without her. I’m not leaving here without him. And you do not want me taking up residence in the castle.”

There’s a long pause.

“Professor McGonagall, please, let me go with Neville. He makes me feel better.”

Feeling both happy and scared, he reaches over and takes her hand.

Sighing, McGonagall looks at them for a long moment before saying, “Augusta.”

“War, Minerva,” Gran responds. “You know this is best.”

Letting out another sigh and giving Neville a burst of hope, McGonagall walks over to Gran and says almost too quietly to hear, “So help me, Augusta, if anything untoward or deadly happens to that girl, I will flay you alive myself.”

He gets the feeling he really wasn’t supposed to hear this.

“No, neither of us were,” Luna whispers. She squeezes his hand. “We need to protect your room from nargles. I have a feeling some are hiding in your containers of mistletoe.”

…

As they’re leaving, he hears McGonagall grumble, “You’re taking one of my students, and your grandson is taking half of the school’s greenhouses. Might I interest you in a poltergeist, as well?”

“Hush, Minerva. You know as well I do they’ll do better with him than they will with Sprout. She’s certainly not going to have the time or inclination. Besides, that little Hufflepuff is taking several of Hagrid’s ghastly creatures, and Jenkins Perks is taking…”

“She has a point,” he whispers to Luna. They load the Knight Bus. “Will there be a term next year?”

“She’s going to work very hard to make sure there is. Whether she’ll be successful or not is less clear.”

 “Wonderful.”

…

“This is not fine!”

Listening through the extendable ears, Neville winces and wishes Luna were with him.

“Stop being a damn coward, Bornuk! I’ve lived through three wars, and I’m hoping to live through the fourth. Neville will live through this, and technically, that’ll make it two for him. I pray to the gods Luna will, too, but knowing Xeno-”

“They escaped the wedding unharmed.”

Rolling his eyes, Neville has a sudden burst of sympathy for his gran. Bill and Fleur Weasley’s wedding was attacked, and while Luna and her dad did make it out of safely, this isn’t what this was about. The fact Harry, Ron, and Hermione are missing, the ministry has been completely taken over, and Hogwarts is going to start in a few days with the traitorous, murderous Snape as Head- none of this is, either.

Bornuk came to say goodbye. He’s going to go to some desert.

Gran isn’t taking it well, and Neville himself is angry. However, he isn’t sure if he ought to get involved.

“What would you have me do, Augusta,” Bornuk asks, and his tone is so sad some of Neville’s anger deflates. “I’ve been your friend for a little over two decades, Augusta. I helped you when Frank and Alice needed bail. I’ve always loved Frank, Alice, and Neville. I’ve always tried to be there for them. I would give my life for them, especially Neville. You know that, whatever my reasons, this will have the benefit of keeping him and them safe.”

“You-”

The doorbell rings.

Cursing, his gran says, “I’ll see who it. Go check on Neville.”

…

**Seventh Year**

After he tells Luna about Bornuk and his Gran, she declares, “They’re in love.”

Then, she shivers when a scowling alleged auror checks a little thirteen-year-old’s genealogy records.

Wrapping an arm around her, he briefly tries to think happy thoughts before giving up and letting his irritation flow. “You didn’t think to tell me that my gran is in love with the goblin that she routinely gets into fights with. Thanks for that. For Merlin’s sake, he once locked her in a vault, and she once tried to throw him off the stadium at the world Quidditch game. After he got us tickets, mind you.”

They slip into a compartment.

“Wait. He’s in love with her, and he just left without telling her? Gran’s right: that is a coward.”

“Would you-”

“If I loved someone, and I was about to die, yes. I have to believe I’d be man enough to tell them. Now, back to you not telling me.”

“You knew.” She reaches over to take his hand.

He straightens his fingers, and hoping no one sees, he silently reminds her to use the invisible ink. She’s gotten to where she draws runes on his fingernails and toenails once or twice a week. He doesn’t exactly mind- apparently, his mum used to paint both his and his dad’s toenails, and the whole thing about how boys shouldn’t wear nail polish or makeup is mostly something only people from heavily muggle families believe.

To him, though, it’s something girlfriends, wives, and daughters, and maybe mums, do to boys. He doesn’t particularly care if other boys like to do it for themselves, but he doesn’t. And Luna’s not his girlfriend.

“You just didn’t want to acknowledge it,” she continues.

“Alright,” he says. “New rule. It doesn’t matter if I want to acknowledge it or not, if two people I really care about love each other or hate each other or whatever, I need to know.”

“Very well. For some people, it’s enough that they know. Them not telling the person they love, it might be for the better.”

“What gives them right to make that decision?”

“Their mental well-being,” she answers. “If the person they love doesn’t know, it might hurt less to lose the person in love with them. Therefore, the person in love goes into danger knowing that they didn’t cause unnecessary pain. Perhaps, the person doesn’t love them back, but the person in love returns. The other person might feel obligated to try. Or two people are in love, and they confess. One of them goes into a situation and dies knowing they won’t get to be with the holder of their heart and knowing that the person will have to life and suffer the pain of not having them.”

He’s not going to think about any of the counters in his head. “I’m still angry about what he did to Gran. You know, probably better than me, how much this is hurting her.”

“Yes, I do." She switches to his other hand. “I wish I could do more.”

“Thanks for all you have done,” he tells her. “So, for Snape and whatever other death eaters have invaded, what’s the plan, and I’m saying no, right now, to anything involving bats.”

“How about spirtnerts? I believe I can coax one or two in helping obtain a parcel of leprechaun gold.”

“What’s a spirtnert, and how would leprechaun gold help,” he resignedly inquires.

…

On the first night, he lets Luna in after Seamus falls asleep.

Seamus cried himself to sleep, and Neville’s almost cried a few times himself at how strange and empty it felt not having the others in the dorm.

“Are you doing okay?”

Nodding, she climbs onto his bed. “It always takes a few days, but I quickly acclimate to the fear, pain, and insecurity. This is simply a different shade of it all.” Looking over at Seamus, she gives a small smile. “He needs as many nice dreams as possible.”

“Is he having one now?”

“For the moment.” She takes his hand. “Would it be odd if I slept with him?”

“Er, you do mean-”

“Yes,” she answers. “Seamus’s sexual inclinations don’t direct themselves to me, nor mine to him.”

“The answer would normally be, ‘yes,’” he says, “but I think it might actually help him.”

“What are you so indecisive about?”

Taking a deep breath, he tries to look at her but can’t. “Luna, I don’t want Snape and the Carrows to know how close we are. You aren’t a weapon, and I won’t ask you to be a part of this. But if they think we’re not close, they might- You might be able to find out more from them, and it might keep you safer.”

She’s quiet for a long minute.

“Neither of us will be happy, but it shouldn’t be too hard to accomplish.” She leans against him. “If we don’t eat meals together and don’t associate with one another in public outside of study group, the Carrows will assume we’ve drifted apart.”

“What about Snape?”

“He has more ire for you than he ever has for me.”

Suddenly, he feels a strong urge to kiss her.

“It’s okay.” She briefly tightens her hand. “You’re scared, and you trust me. You’re worried you’ll never have a girlfriend. I believe you will.”

“Thanks,” he mutters. He’s unable to make the shame, embarrassment, and longing go away despite his efforts. “Why don’t we try to get some sleep?”

“I’ll take the right side of Seamus.”

It takes a second to understand what she means.

“Luna,” he hisses, “I’m not sleeping with him, too! For one thing, the bed’s barely big enough for both of you, and for another, even if he does react badly, he’ll react less badly to you!”

“The beds expand," she replies.

He did know this, and he knows Seamus probably wouldn’t mind.

During second year, he’d had to deal with a week or two of Seamus insisting he share his bed with both Seamus and Dean, on the theory they’d be less likely to be attacked if they were close to a pureblood.

“I doubt he’d be mad at you for doing what I told you to. He’s come to expect it.”

Realising he’s going to have much bigger fights he desperately needs to win soon, he shakes his head and says, “Fine. In the morning, we can talk to him about not telling anyone we’re still best mates.”

…

Gran is going to kill him.

Hopefully, she’ll be proud of him, but she’s going to kill him.

Sighing, he leans against the wall.

A medikit appears in front of him.

He sinks down. “Thanks. Please, just don’t let the Carrows or Snape or anyone loyal to them or Voldemort or Umbridge come in. Please, if Luna comes, let her in.”

It hits him he just told Alecto Carrow off in front of the entire class, and he finds himself laughing. Sure, she likely tried to kill him, but he hadn’t stuttered or shaken. For just a moment or two, he had been strong and powerful.

The laughing doesn’t last long.

He’s alone without food or water, and he might have just put his gran and Bornuk in even greater danger. Going outside the room is suicide. After this, if they don’t hurt them, they’ll still keep Ginny, Seamus, and all the other remaining D.A. members under tight guard.

Including Luna, he realises.

Closing his eyes, he tries to send out his thoughts.

_I’m okay, Luna. I’m sorry about this. Please, be okay. If you can hear me, be okay. Be safe. Don’t worry about me. Protect the others as best you can._

He has no idea if it’ll work. Luna’s always made it clear she can’t hear or read thoughts, but maybe, his feelings can travel past the room. He doesn’t understand what makes her able to do what she does, and even though she’s tried explaining it before, he’s still doesn’t understand.

Once, though, she’d known her dad had a broken leg even though he was miles and miles away.

…

He wakes up on a bed with Luna’s hair tickling his nose.

Before he can fully wake up, she stirs and sits up. “I came as soon as I could.”

“What’s going on?”

“Here.” She withdraws an apple, a wrapped sandwich, a bowl of pudding with a shimmering blue light over the top, and a butterbeer from her pocket. “I wanted to bring you a yellow apple, but the house-elves told me they weren’t sold off-season.”

“Thanks, Luna.”

“The Carrows don’t know where the Room is. No one will tell them. I told Ginny about my abilities.”

“Because you had to,” he sighs.

“You gave many people a sense of hope earlier. It’s something you’ll feel pride in, if you let yourself.”

“Let me guess, she was determined to be the one to sneak in here, but you told so that she’d understand why you were the better choice.”

“Yes,” she answers. “We need to start moving certain people in here permanently. Seamus will be killed if he stays much longer.”

“Killed or kill himself,” he grimly asks.

Until recently, he never knew how much Dean truly meant to Seamus.

“Either,” she answers. “I’d still consider it the former if the latter happened, however.”

“Fair enough. How are we going to do this?”

“Padma gave me a note.” She withdraws her D.A. coin from her pocket. “Eat while I read it.”

…

“Alecto Carrow suggested I go home for Christmas. She has a plan to have Snatchers take me to the Malfoys after the holidays.”

He mutters a curse. “I’ll send Miko to get the rest of your stuff, and-”

“Neville,” she quietly interrupts.

One look into her eyes has his stomach reeling. “No, Luna. Don’t tell me you’re actually-”

“I know what you’re feeling, but there are advantages to this.”

“Do you know _how_ I’m feeling? This is bloody loony, and I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

“Bellatrix Lestrange will likely be there.”

“Even more reason for-”

“Listen to me, Neville Longbottom,” she orders.

Once he’s done gaping, she says, “I can find out a great deal of useful information.”

“If you manage to make it out alive and sane and still able to talk or write or sign, then, yeah, I’m sure you could. It’s too dangerous!”

“I can help you get her.”

“If you want to help me get her, then, the next we come across her, get her in a position where I have one clear shot. Preferably without anyone innocent in the line of fire, but honestly, I’m not sure that would be too much of a deterrent."

A familiar feeling of shame washes over him.

“If I say the right things, I can make sure she comes to Hogwarts. I can gain information on their plans. I know most of Draco’s weaknesses, and I can discover the-”

“It won’t do a damn bit of good if they kill you.”

“Some part of you wants-”

“Yeah, and to hell with that part! Thought about your dad, have you?”

“Yes,” she answers. “I hope to keep him safe from all those who want to harm him.”

Softening, he says, “Look, Luna, you know that I understand that. But this is too dangerous. We can get Abeforth to help get you home and back.”

“It’s not only him.”

“Snape knows about you, and whether you trust him or not, none of us do. Malfoy might know, and even if Snape knows and hasn’t told, do you really think that Malfoy, if he knows, hasn’t? Or won’t?”

“I don’t know for sure what to think about him. He’s often followed by tragedy,” she answers. “I’ve yet to determine if there’s a creature behind it or not. If he’d allow me to perform some-”

“Luna, his dad going to jail and him being assigned to kill Dumbledore, those aren’t him being the victim of tragedy. He’s always bought into all that, even when he was little, and these are the consequences.”

“He felt truly alive the first time he saw green eyes,” she informs him. “I understand. Not about green eyes, of course, but-”

All he feels is utter confusion and worry, and she cuts herself off. “I know the risks, and I still want to do this.”

“No.”

She looks at him.

“You don’t understand, not truly,” he says. “Yeah, maybe, you can use them, but they could do the same. They’d torture you, and if decorated aurors couldn’t hold up, do you really think a sixteen-year-old girl could? Even one as awesome as you? If you’re wrong about Snape, they might try to use you to help them. Imperio, potions, and so on. We can get to your dad, Luna, I promise. If Abeforth won’t help, we sneak out and use the-”

“It’s not just Dad,” she interrupts. “It’s possible they have information on Dean, Harry, Teller Bornuk, and the others. I suspect they also know more about Fudge’s continuing efforts to exterminate the goblins, but I understand that isn’t one of the important things to focus on at the moment.”

He tells himself to be patient.

“Luna, you lose your abilities when you get a cold. Whenever you’re near someone who has a bad day, I know how- well, I know it makes you sadder than you let on. I remember last year, when we first found out about Malfoy’s plot. You almost fell to the ground. Bellatrix Lestrange drove two people insane. Malfoy’s a bully. His dad tried to kill Ginny and a bunch of other students. His mum is loyal to Voldemort. Snatchers- who knows how bad most of them are, and what if they have other prisoners? They’ll be scared or angry or maybe even insane.”

“Look, this has nothing to do with you personally. Do you think anyone with your ability could handle all that? Or even if someone could, it’d be someone like Dumbledore, old and powerful, not an underage witch.”

There’s silence, and as he’s wondering if he should apologise or keep pushing, she leans against him. “Maybe I can’t handle it, but I need to try. We’re not children anymore. I’m not sure you ever were.”

“Of course, I was,” he says.

“We could put it to a vote.”

He scoots away from her.

He’s pretty sure she knows exactly what she’s doing. A vote would be in her favour.

The Patils might go either way, but most of the others, they’d back her. Ginny for Harry, Seamus for Dean, and the Creevey brothers because they’re closer to her than to him. Luna may have been bullied and teased for years, but this is because she’s never chosen to strike back. Part of what used to scare him about her was how easily she could manipulate people if she decided to.

“This is important.”

“This is dangerous and stupid and I may not be able to stop you, but I’ll try.”

“You didn’t say ‘loony’.”

“Yeah, well,” he says with a feeling of utter helplessness, “it is, but I reckon there are times when you and your dad have a better grasp on things than most people. But not this time. Not this plan.”

Climbing off the bed, he says, “I’ll try my best to stop you, and if you manage to do this, even if you come back, this is- I won’t be your friend anymore, Luna.”

She stands up, and her face is calm, but he can feel a shift in the air. Guilt rolls unpleasantly in his stomach, and he desperately wants to hug her. A growing part of him is tempted to give in just to make her happy, but he can’t.

“I’ve done so much for you,” she quietly declares, and he has a strange feeling he can’t place. “I’ve been your friend for over two years. If our positions were reversed, you know that I’d support you.”

“No, you’d insist on coming with me,” he corrects. “Do you want me to sneak on the train with you, Luna? Let both of us be captured? Look me in the eyes and swear you wouldn’t make sure I somehow managed to not make it onto the express with you.”

“This is very unkind of you.”

“Oh, I’m the unkind one? Sure, I’ll just let you go, and when you die, it won’t hurt,” he hisses. Ignoring the tears falling, he continues, “Only my best mate, the one person I trust more than anyone besides Gran. Or you’ll be insane, and assuming your dad or your family in Ireland doesn’t take you somewhere I can’t go, I’ll visit you at St. Mungo’s along with my parents. Maybe, I’ll be able to get you to sort of recognise me by giving you pudding or eatable snowflakes, or maybe, you’ll be just like my dad.”

“Speaking of dads, yours survives the war. And I get to stand there and tell him that his sixteen-year-old daughter, his only child, the only person he really had since your mum died, is dead or crazy because of me, the one person he could trust more than anyone to take care of her. And don’t you dare say it’s not my responsibility. I know more about you than anyone here but Snape and Ginny, and I care more about you than anyone else here. They’d be sad if something happened to you, but I’d be devastated.”

Finishing, he says, “You’ve done a lot for me, from making me feel good about myself to helping with homework to just being my friend. I’ve done a lot for you, too, though. I’ve been a good friend, Luna.”

“Perhaps,” she says. She reaches over to wipe his tears. “It’s time to stop. It has a good chance of not working, but if it does, this is a strategic move. I could be a weapon.”

“You’re a sixteen-year-old girl who still sleeps with a nightlight and gets tricked by eleven-year-olds into losing card games.”

He still sleeps with his nightlight, too, and if the younger students, aside from Ginny and a few others, had any interest in him, he’d most likely be tricked, too. The point is, though, his concerns about her ability not working or it being too much still stand.

“I’ve found my anchor.”

He has a vague idea he should know what she’s talking about, but he doesn’t.

“Heightened emotions still affect my own, but I’m much stronger. I know what thoughts and feelings to cling to when faced with the overwhelming feelings of others.”

“Luna, I’m not sure I understand, but if you’ve found a way to handle things better, that’s good. I’m happy for you.” Although, it seems to him she’s always handled things better than most people he knows would.

Just as she’s about to say something more, Padma blasts Seamus across the room, and they just barely duck in time to avoid being hit.

…

Ginny sits down.

“Hey. Luna told you?”

“I hate it when boys make these decisions for girls,” she declares. “Harry broke up with me. Fred, George, and Ron always had to something to say about Michael and Dean. And it’d be fine if it was just about me and the damn diary, but it’s not. Everyone thinks girls need to be more protected.”

He manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He’s well aware of how much Ginny doesn’t need protection against most things. “This isn’t about that. If Luna were a boy, I’d still think this was a suicidal, insane plan. She could probably handle it more than most boys can, but I don’t think she can handle it.”

“She does, though, and you’re making the choice for her.”

“First, I’ve been making a lot of choices for a lot of people, and two, we all know I can’t stop her if she decides to do this.”

“You threatened to take your friendship away,” Ginny retorts. “Luna loves you, Neville. She adores you. Ever since sometime in fourth year, she’s followed you around like a bright-eyed crup.”

He starts to say he doesn’t remember even knowing Luna during fourth year, but then, he remembers the three of them aren’t actually in the same year.

“And you know that you can get her to do almost anything just by wanting it. As far as I know, you’ve never taken advantage of that, but threatening to end your friendship, that is. That is in a big way.”

Resisting the urge to defend himself, he snaps, “True or not, would you let-”

“Yes,” she vehemently answers. “I’ve let my brother, Harry, and Hermione go. I know what most of my family is doing, risking themselves for the Order. Hell, my big brother had his face bloody mauled. In addition, whether they like it or not, I’m fighting, too. That’s what people do during wars, the ones old enough, they either fight, or they’re cowards. Luna wants to fight, but you’d rather she just be like the little ones here. But she’s not. She’s almost seventeen, and she may believe in barmy things, but she’s smart, powerful, and if she says she can do something, she deserves the right to try!”

Frustrated, he snaps, “I hate Bellatrix Lestrange. I want her dead. If I could kill her, I would. Luna doesn’t need to do this to see her dad. And she probably wouldn’t do it for Seamus or for you. She wants to get close to Lestrange to help me, and I hate it, but some part of me desperately wants her to. Never mind what kind of friend I’d be, what kind of man, what kind of leader, would I be if I let her do this?”

“You can’t help what you want,” Ginny says with a shrug. “I’ve learned that the hard way. All you can do is decide how to act. If you blindly sent her in, or if you used your friendship to get her to do it, the answer would be a horrible one. But you’re not. You want this, she wants this, and you need to truly talk to her.”

“Let myself be convinced.”

“No,” she says. “I mean, you forbade it right off the bat, and then, you gave your objections. Just- really talk about why you do and don’t want this, and listen to her before deciding anything.”

…

“Aside from me, do you have anything that would make you do this?”

Luna looks up from her sketchbook. “Why aren’t you enough?”

He sighs.

“Before Mum died, I was never truly unhappy,” she says. “Aside from when you were a baby, perhaps, there’s never been a time you’ve not been unhappy, deep down. How many other Beings has she caused such unhappiness in? You can’t do anything to fill the hole in my heart, Neville; no matter how happy I am, part of me is always going to yearn for my mother. It’s the same with you; no matter how happy you become, what happened to your parents will never completely stop haunting you.”

“True,” he agrees.

“But if Bellatrix Lestrange is brought down, you and so many other people might find peace. I can’t say if it’ll help your parents’ brains, but it’ll certainly increase their physical safety. I think they’ll be calmer once the unspoken worry of you and the others are gone.”

“It’ll put your dad at risk.”

“He’ll understand,” she says. “When I arrive, I’ll explain things. He’d do anything for Mum.”

“I’d hope so, seeing as how she was his wife.”

“It isn’t always about that with me. There are things I wouldn’t risk, Neville, for other people. You’re not my blood, and you’re probably not the man I’ll marry. That doesn’t mean you aren’t one of the people I’d risk more than usual for.”

“Why? Wait, probably?”

“I’m not sure marriage is a life choice that’s personally best for me.”

Briefly embracing the relief at this, he says, “Right. We’ll talk about that some other time. Look, I know you’ll do a lot for your friends and for me.”

“I don’t want to lose your friendship, Neville.”

“There’s a ‘but’, isn’t there?”

“However long I have left to live, I can live without it more than I can not doing this.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and finally, he says, “Alright.”

He pulls her into a hug, kisses her head, and holds on tight.

…

He didn’t realise how much it would truly hurt.

He tries to tell himself he couldn’t have stopped her.

You sacrificed an innocent, sixteen-year-old, is the unforgiving retort. You didn’t have to agree. You could have fought harder. You were a big reason she went, she always- you should have never let her know how much you wanted this.

She was your best friend, and you sacrificed her.

…

When Ginny leaves, everything falls apart further.

He knows he should have gotten everyone together and thought of something to do about Xenophilius, but he didn’t, and he hears about how Xenophilius tried to give Harry and the others up.

His blood and theirs would be on my hands, he reflects.

No one is overly sympathetic, and he barely manages to keep himself from snapping.

Xenophilius did it for Luna. He did it for his daughter. He did it for a sixteen-year-old witch who should have never been captured.

In addition, he’s probably never going to get through paying for it, just like Marietta never will and Sirius Black never did.

Neville used to think he was perpetually unlucky, but there’s no mark on his head, for all he knows, only the bad are cursing his name, and his words still carry plenty of weight with those in the room.

_She was your best friend, and you sacrificed her._

…

He almost buckles with relief when Luna reappears.

She’s painfully thin and has purple under her eyes but is otherwise okay. She still has all her limbs, and more importantly, she’s still sane.

Before any proper reunion can happen, however, the castle is under attack, and everyone is too busy trying to get the little ones out and protect themselves and figure out what to do with the captured death eaters, since killing unarmed people, no matter how wretched, goes against the very things they’re fighting against.

“Neville!”

He freezes when he comes across Luna and Lestrange.

Lestrange’s hand is gripped tightly to a locket Luna has on, and her wand is against Luna’s head.

“She can’t move, Neville. As soon as she touched my locket, she became stuck. Here’s your free shot. Take it.”

His wand is already pointed before he realises-

“Neville,” she says with maddening serenity, “I don’t know what will happen to me, but you shouldn’t let that deter you. We all share being marked by her, and you and I would die without hesitation if it meant she could never mark another.”

And he opens his mouth, but then, he realises, _I can’t. I love her. Bloody hell, I’m in love with Luna, and I just got her back._

He sees her gape and light up as she takes this in, and he casts a severing charm on the necklace and summons her over to him. As he pushes her behind him, he points his wand when Lestrange starts to get up from the floor, but before he can do anything, two death eaters appear, haul her up, and disappear.

“Damn,” he mutters.

Turning to Luna, he kisses her forehead. “Never do that again. Having you in my life is more important than seeing her dead.”

“I love you, too.”

…

After everything is finally over, he finds himself sitting in the Great Hall with Luna and feeling just as helpless as ever.

Bellatrix Lestrange is finally dead. Voldemort is finally gone for good. He might have a girlfriend.

He’s not entirely sure he and Luna are- he was convinced to do things he knew were wrong, and she was willing to die just so he could kill someone.

“Suzanne will likely have a new chart out soon.” She places her head on his shoulder. “We could see what it says. Personally, I think finding a red bumblebee and bribing it with green tea leafs would be more accurate, but since that would most likely involve contact with-”

“Luna. Just because I don’t know if we’ll work, that doesn’t mean I don’t desperately want to try. Are you willing to? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” she answers. “I’d love to. You can kiss me, you know. I’ve wanted that for a long time.”

Not even trying to mask his sheer joy, he leans over and carefully kisses her.   


End file.
